


the dragon and her wolves

by queenrhaenyra



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Catelyn Stark Bashing, Crack Treated VERY Seriously, Don't Like Don't Read, Everyone wins, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Idk if I’d rather be Dany in this scenario or Jon or Robb, N plus A equals J, Porn with some plot, Shameless Self-Indulgence, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, and the boys have a thing for dany, dany has a thing for stark boys, it's known that targaryens and starks really like to fuck right?, that's a personal kink of mine fuck that bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25305211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenrhaenyra/pseuds/queenrhaenyra
Summary: Jon and Robb are used to sharing the same swords, horses and armour.But never the same woman.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Robb Stark/Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 84
Kudos: 244





	the dragon and her wolves

**Author's Note:**

> \- Rhaegar is King in this universe. Dany is his sister. No Viserys. No rebellion or whatever, we'll just pretend everything is peaceful and nice and he became King like he was supposed to. Him and Ned are cool, y'know, no Stark/Targ enmity here.  
> \- Jon is Ned's son with Ashara. Catelyn's still a bitch. 
> 
> Anddd that's pretty much it. There's not a lot of plot here so don't try to make much sense of things. Everything is pretty self-explanatory.  
> Just had a friend tell me that I shouldn't post a story where Dany has a threesome with two men because some people in the Jonerys tag are very sensitive about Daenerys being with other men, and she dealt with hate comments from them in the past. Sike. I'm still gonna do it.
> 
> So, don't pretend you can't read the tags. x

The North has never been quite as lively as it is on the day that the King arrives. Rhaegar Targaryen is to ride to Winterfell with his sister—news that have reached every pair of functioning ears in the Northern Kingdom by now. Every man, woman and child has been waiting for this very moment. Some care less than others, but that number is very few compared to those who idolise Rhaegar, those who have grown up with stories of the wondrous Targaryens and their dragons, those who never thought they’d see one in real life. A Targaryen, that is, not a dragon.

The air is buzzing with tension and excitement this morning. The servants are working twice as hard to make sure that every surface of the castle is shiny enough for the King to look upon his reflection.

Ned Stark is muttering orders left and right, ensuring the utmost perfect state of his home.

“There you are,” he sighs when he finds Jon walking aimlessly in one of the hallways, “What are you doing? You’re not even changed!”

“For what?” he asks dumbly.

“To greet them, Jon! What else?”

“I thought…” he finds himself trailing off. He thought he was not to be there to welcome the King. _That’s what Catelyn said over dinner yesterday, anyway,_ he thinks bitterly.

Ned’s eyes soften in recognition. “You are my son,” he says, and Jon swears nothing will be sweeter to his ears than these words, “Of course you’re coming. Now, go! Fetch Robb to do the same.” As he walks away, Ned yells over his shoulder, “And get rid of that hair for me, would you?”

Jon scowls to himself. _But I love my hair._

***

“Do you think she is as beautiful as they say?”

“Who?”

Robb rolls his eyes. “The princess, Jon, who else?”

From the corner of his eyes, Robb sees Jon doing what he does best—brooding. He looks like he would rather be buried alive than getting a haircut. He winces as the man behind him cuts off a wild curl. Robb snorts.

“She must be,” Jon answers dismissively, glaring at the stylist through the looking glass. “Although, songs and poems are rarely ever accurate.”

Robb makes a pensive face, considering his brother's words. “You’re right.” But it's still exciting to think that he'll be seeing the last Targaryen woman alive. Every person who has had the privilege of meeting her has said nothing but nice things about the princess.

After a while, Jon says, “I’m more interested in the King.”

“I doubt he’s as pretty as his sister.”

Jon groans. “I am not talking about his beauty, you fool. I just never thought I’d meet a King.”

Robb chuckles. Father had taken him South when he was ten and five. He saw Rhaegar Targaryen. From afar, but still. He is as impressive as the exaggerated songs make him out to be. Sadly, Robb had not seen his sister. “You’ll be amazed,” he promises his brother.

Jon smiles.

Outside, Sansa is crying about Arya ruining her hair.

***

Jon’s heart thuds violently when he first sees Rhaegar Targaryen. The young King exudes power and confidence as he gets off his black horse, a smile on his face when his eyes land on Eddard.

Before he greets them, though, he turns to the red carriage behind him and offers his hand. A small one wraps around his palm and Jon nearly loses his breath as Daenerys Targaryen steps out, so pale and pretty she fits right into the snowy scenery.

“Gods,” Robb breathes out next to him.

Jon understands what his brother means. Turns out, the songs _were_ wrong. Not because they exaggerated her beauty, but because they failed to do it justice.

Her long, seemingly endless, silver hair matches her brother’s but while Rhaegar looks hardened by war and politics, Daenerys is untainted. Her skin looks perfect, flawless, and her smile could bring any sane man to his knees. “Oh, it’s so cold,” she says with a giggle, the apples of her cheeks turning bright red and Jon swears he’s never seen a lovelier sight in his entire life.

They bow for their King but while the man is more interested in Ned Stark, as if they’ve been long-time pals, the princess curiously looks around. Her soft gaze locks on Jon’s for a moment, and his heart jumps. She looks to his right at his brother, back and forth between them, before offering them a dazzling smile.

Jon swallows. “Did she just—”

“Yes,” Robb answers quickly.

Her visit here would be pure torture. _Sweet torture._

***

Robb has barely left the princess out of sight from the moment she arrived in his home.

He follows her around as a guide, but really, it’s just an excuse to bask into her beauty and stare at her like a lovesick fool. On top of being the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, Daenerys is kind and warm. She talks to anyone and everyone. From the kids to his sisters, she has befriended and enchanted every soul she has met so far.

Given how different Sansa and Arya is, it’s truly a _miracle_ to get _both_ of them to like you.

With Sansa, Daenerys is sweet and coy—talking about pretty dresses and, when they whisper and giggle to each other, surely about boys. With Arya, Daenerys opens her heart about how she’s learning how to fight and they bond over their shared love for deadly weapons.

“Princess Daenerys,” Sansa says over dinner, grinning, “Tomorrow, I shall show you the dress I’ve just finished working on. It’s red and black.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s lovely,” Daenerys answers, returning her enthusiasm.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to the stables,” Arya butts in, “We have a silver horse. His hair looks just like yours.”

Daenerys giggles. “I’d love that, too.”

“Arya! Her hair is not like a horse’s,” Sansa scoffs.

“She knows that’s not what I meant.” Arya glares at her sister. “And I’m sure she doesn’t want to see your dress and is just saying yes out of pity.”

“Girls,” Catelyn warns them with a tight smile and hardened eyes. "This is not the way to talk to a princess."

The King laughs delightedly, and the two girls immediately relax when he says, “It’s quite alright, Lady Catelyn. They’re just children.”

“And they’re both so great,” Daenerys agrees with Rhaegar, “I’m excited both for the dress _and_ the horse. We have all the time in the world to do whatever you two wish.”

And just like that, Sansa and Arya are appeased, smiling as they continue eating.

Robb chuckles under his breath.

The princess is seated next to him, so she catches on the action and turns her head towards him. _Did he mention she looks like heaven tonight?_ Hair braided intricately on top of her head but a few loose strands bouncing on her shoulders. She is dressed in a beautiful black gown and he finds that black suits her. So does white. And red. And anything she wears, surely.

“What’s so funny, my lord?” she asks, smiling at him.

“Robb is fine,” he reminds her, mainly because he wants to hear her use his name, “And, it’s just that I am quite impressed by your social skills.”

“Really? Why so?”

“Well, it’s quite rare that someone gets both Arya and Sansa to be quiet.”

She giggles. “I find both of them so entertaining. I’ve always wanted to have a sister.”

“You can have mine,” he leans in to whisper to her and she laughs.

“No, I’m serious. I don’t have a lot of friends back home,” she admits and he concludes that he hates seeing Daenerys sad. “You’re lucky. You have three brothers and two sisters. You must never get bored around here.”

“Never,” he answers. "But that doesn't mean I don't get annoyed. And tired."

Her sweet laugh rings in the air once more. “Speaking of your brothers,” she says suddenly, eyes flickering around, “I see Bran and…baby Rickon in your mother’s arms.” She inches closer to him, and her lavender scent invades his nose, “Where is your third brother?”

“Jon?” Robb asks and she nods curiously. “Oh, he’s not…he doesn’t eat with us.”

“Why not?” she questions.

Robb is taken aback by the query. He’s never had to explain this to any other guest. _Because other guests usually don’t care about Jon,_ he thinks guiltily. But of course, Daenerys does. She likes everyone. It’s refreshing and weird. “Well,” he begins, clearing his throat, “He’s not really…my…brother. I mean, he _is,_ but…” he looks at her desperately and she pieces two and two together.

“Oh.” Daenerys sounds disappointed. “That is why he does not dine with you?”

“My mother’s request, yes.”

Daenerys finishes her plate silently. After she is done, she makes to leave.

“Where are you going, Princess? The night is still young. We have refreshments and dessert coming up,” Catelyn says sweetly.

Daenerys smiles back, but hers is not sincere. Robb can tell because he has observed her enough these past few days, and he is aware of how her real smiles reach her eyes. “Send them outside,” she says, “I’m going to get acquainted with Jon.”

She leaves the table, shocking everyone except her brother who chuckles. “That’s Daenerys for you,” King Rhaegar says, “She has to have everyone under her spell or she will not be satisfied.”

Everyone laughs and Robb grins.

He decides that he really, _really_ likes this girl.

***

“No, Ghost.” Jon is exasperated as his white wolf begins chewing on the stick he just threw. “You have to bring it back to me.”

Ghost looks up at him with a confused expression before going back to chewing.

Jon startles at the sound of girly giggles filling the air.

He turns, mouth gaping at Daenerys standing there in the dark, hands clasped in front of her as she watches them. “Princess,” he stammers the word out, awkwardly bowing.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to do this every time.” She speaks with a smile, “It’s tiring to scare people so easily with my presence.”

“You didn’t—I’m not—it was simply unexpected.” His cheeks heat under her close scrutiny as she advances towards him.

“Can I pet him?” she asks, eyeing Ghost.

“Um, probably not, he’s…” The words die on his tongue as she calls out for him and Ghost happily leaves the stick to run up to her, offering his head for pats and scrubs. Daenerys obliges, dainty fingers delving into his white fur. “Not friendly with strangers,” Jon finishes, muttering the words under his breath.

“He’s so fluffy,” she declares happily.

Jon watches the scene, his own lips curling inadvertently. There’s just something about the princess that is irresistible.

“You have to provide treats,” she tells him suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“For him to bring the stick back. Give him treats. If he realises he gets something in return, he is most likely to obey you,” she explains, just as Ghost licks at her palm and then practically jumps on her, causing her to squeal and fall over.

Panicked, Jon instinctively reaches out but stops himself. He is not to touch royalty. “I think you should go back inside,” he proposes, voice tight. “It’s dark and cold out here.”

“Yet you’re here, aren’t you?” she answers, eyes glittering like jewels from the reflection of the moon.

“Yet I’m here,” he mutters.

“Do you not like me, Jon Snow?”

She asks the question so casually, following the natural flow of the conversation, that he almost falls over in surprise as well. Does he not— _what_? “Of course I do,” he answers quickly, his heart speeding up at the prospect of the King finding out he’s offended his sister. Gods, Ned would be so angry if this happens. “I am sorry if I have offended you in any way, it was never my intention.”

She shakes her head, frowning. “No, you have not. It’s just—your siblings like spending time with me. Sansa tells me all about her dresses, Arya about the swords she wishes to own. Even Bran told me he’d teach me how to climb.” Jon makes a mental note to ask Bran never to do something as foolish as that. “But you…” she licks her lips, gazing up at him intently as she runs her fingers along Ghost’s white stomach, “You’re quiet. You nod and smile. You don’t seem like you wish to talk to me all that much.”

“It’s not like that,” he swears, surprised by her words. “I never thought you wanted me to talk to you.” Most of the guests who journey here don’t show any interest in him, why would she be any different?

“I do!” she exclaims. “I want to get to know you.”

“But I’m a bastard,” he blurts as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is, but it seems to mean nothing to her.

“The sky is blue,” she says, to which he frowns. She snorts. “I thought we were stating unimportant facts.”

He blushes harder.

“Why would that mean anything to me, Jon?” she asks quietly.

“It means a lot to most,” he admits just as softly. “You’re a princess.”

“Again with the facts.” She rolls her pretty eyes. “I want us to be friends and I want to have fun while I’m here. Will you be my friend, Jon?” She lifts her hand.

He stares at her gloved palm. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, grabbing onto it and pulling her up. Forgetting how tiny she is, Jon does it a bit too harshly and ends up pulling her too close, their chests touching and breaths mingling. He has nowhere to look but her eyes because if his eyes drop too low, he’ll be staring at her cherry-red mouth. He gulps.

“So?” she questions.

He shakes his head. “Yes, I’ll be your friend.”

“Great,” she says with a grin and goes back inside.

Jon looks down at Ghost who is wagging his tail. “Yes, I know,” he sighs, “I like her too.”

***

“Robb, Bran.”

In just a matter of a few days, Robb has grown accustomed to this voice. It’s sweet, melodic yet powerful and authoritative. It also helps that it’s spoken in a smooth, Southern accent that puts all the gruff Northern voices to shame.

Robb finds Daenerys walking up to them in the courtyard, dressed in a lovely grey dress. He thinks it’s a shame that Northern ladies wear such dull colours. He’s never cared about women’s clothing in the past, but now that Daenerys is here, he has begun to realise just how depressing the colours they wear are: black, grey, white…. Even if Daenerys manages to make the bleak dress stand out against her snow-kissed skin, he wishes to see her in radiant colours, like the ones she had worn when she arrived. Red suits her best. It looks like sin on her flesh.

He shakes away the inappropriate thoughts—which are growing more common the more time he spends around the princess—and focuses on her. “I hope you’ve broken your fast, Daenerys.” She’s insisted that they both use first names. He likes it that way.

“That I have,” she answers with a small smile. “Are you two training?”

“Robb’s teaching me how to shoot a target better,” Robb’s little brother answers. “He says if I manage to do it, he won’t tell Mother about me climbing the towers last night.”

Robb jokingly shoves at his shoulder. “That was never part of the deal, I _am_ going to tell Mother. Now, relax your arm. It’s too taut.” He jabs his finger into his brother’s arm and helps him get into position again.

Now that he knows Daenerys is watching, he wants to make sure Bran hits the target. Just so she can see he’s a good teacher. “Now, focus. Only release when you’re stable and—” Before he can finish the sentence, Bran has already shot the arrow. It not only misses the target but hits a servant boy’s backside.

Daenerys throws her head back in laughter.

Robb would be embarrassed if the sight wasn’t so blindingly beautiful. “Now imagine if that was a real arrow,” he scoffs. “Go check on Aryn.”

Bran nods and runs up to the boy he just hit.

He looks at Daenerys sheepishly. “I promise I am a great teacher. He's a slow learner.”

“Oh, but I don’t doubt it.” She says, a flirty edge to her voice. He watches as she takes a step forward and brings her hand to touch his arm. Through the layers of leather, he can feel the ghost of her skin. “A warrior’s hands,” she muses, fingers trailing down to his palm. “I am certain these are _very_ skilled.”

There is no mistaking the suggestive tone, nor the heat in her eyes as she looks at him. His mouth dries. _Gods, she’ll be the end of me._ Before he can formulate a response, hopefully something flirty to match her own words, Daenerys winks at him and walks away.

***

Jon wonders if Daenerys’ strong-mindedness and stubbornness will ever get her into trouble.

It’s the way she announces that Jon is to dine with them during their stay here. It’s the way she says the words casually, but her tone is anything but. It’s commanding. _Cold._ Directed to Catelyn. It’s the way the room falls silent around her. It’s the way even Rhaegar stops and listens when she walks into a room.

It’s the way Daenerys Targaryen speaks like a Queen, even if she is just a young girl.

Catelyn fidgets under her eyes. “It’s just, I thought it would be better for us—”

“Brother,” Daenerys interrupts Ned’s wife’s mid-sentence and turns to the King, batting her eyelashes sweetly. “Is it too much, what I’m asking for here?” The question is rhetoric, of course, and Jon hides a smirk at the way she arcs a brow.

“Of course not.” Rhaegar’s voice is soft as he smiles lovingly at his sibling. When he looks back up at Ned and Catelyn, his voice is final. “There is enough space at the table for Daenerys’ new friend, is there not?”

Ned nods. “Yes, yes, Your Grace. Jon will be delighted to join us. Won’t you, son?”

The tension in the room is skyrocketing as the attention now shifts to him. He looks at Daenerys’ pretty face with her gentle smile and nods dreamily. “I would,” he replies.

It’s at that moment that he realises, as Daenerys’ lips curl victoriously, that this is not a first-time occurrence. Oh, no. Daenerys gets what she wants—always. And, for some reasons, she wants him around.

Throughout dinner that night, Catelyn looks like she wants his head on a stick. _She must believe I asked Daenerys to do this,_ he thinks sourly. He can almost hear her voice taunting him, blaming him for having been humiliated in front of the King.

“Jon.” Daenerys’ voice snaps him out of his dark thoughts.

His mind lightens instantly as he looks at her. She tilts her head to the side, smiling. “Are you alright?”

“I am,” he replies tightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“What you said to Lady Carelyn.”

“Did you not want to dine with me?” She sounds upset.

“It’s not that,” he assures her.

“Well, then, I did the right thing.” She shrugs. “I just feel like it.”

He looks at her, amused. “You just feel like it was the right thing to do?”

“Yes, I like having you around and I don’t like the way Ned and Catelyn treat you,” she says matter-of-factly.

Jon begins to object, “Not my father. Ned Stark is my hero.”

“Is he?” She sounds surprised, annoyed even. “He lets his wife treat you like shit.”

Jon’s eyes widen. For as long as he’s lived, no one has ever talked crap about his father. Everyone here admires him. _But then again,_ he thinks as he meets Daenerys’ fierce purple eyes, _she’s not from here._ “I—he’s a good man. He is not like Lady Catelyn.”

“He might not be but he has the power to make her stop acting like a cunt, doesn’t he? Why does he simply pretend he doesn’t see how you are treated by her?” Daenerys is angry, he realises. He’s never seen someone angrier at his fate _than himself._ Warmth blooms in his chest.

He can only stare at her, amazed at how passionate she is about everything. It’s dangerous to like her that much, but there’s not much he can do, is there? How can anyone not be a hopeless fool for her?

“Eat, Jon,” she tells him, and puts her hand over his on the table. She is not wearing a glove, and neither is he. She feels warm. _Good._ “And then, we’ll go play fetch with Ghost.”

He grins, his bad mood forgotten, Catelyn Stark’s face gone from his memory. Instead, he eats, content with the way she never takes her hand off his.

***

A few days before Daenerys is to leave, Jon and Robb are sparring in the yard.

“I’m going to miss her,” Robb says, dodging a swing.

Jon is too concentrated on lifting his sword back up, charging at his brother with full force, to get his words. When he misses again, he sighs, breathing heavily. “Who?”

“Daenerys,” the auburn-haired boy answers, grunting as he slashes at Jon.

Their swords kiss soundly. Sweat dribbles down Jon’s chin and his chest fills up with butterflies at the mention of her name. They had grown close over the past moons. She is his confidant, his friend and she has Ghost wrapped around her little finger—and perhaps Jon, too, but he won’t admit that. “I will, as well,” he says, a confession.

Robb swings to the right and Jon blocks it. Swings to the left, another blocking. They both step away, sweaty and tired but refusing to stop yet. “Aye, will you?” Robb sounds genuinely surprised. “You’ve grown a bit close, too, huh?”

“Yes,” Jon admits, shrugging. “She’s very nice.” With Daenerys, he doesn't think about his _position_ or _parentage._ He can just be Jon, and that's more than enough for her. She isn't scared to show how much she likes being around him, she isn't shy or reserved. Daenerys is like the sun - she shines so bright it might burn your eyes, but she is also so warm that you want nothing more but to stay close to her, and ask her to make the cold go away. 

“She is,” Robb says, and slowly adds, “And very pretty.”

Jon furrows his brow. He doesn’t like Robb’s challenging tone. “And she smells nice.” Jon attacks again.

Robb sets his teeth as they begin fighting again, a bit harder than before. What is Jon trying to prove here? “Yes. Has she shown you the scar she has on her knee? The one she got from—”

“—The cat her brother got her for her tenth nameday?” Jon finishes, groaning as Robb jabs him in the ribs. _Too hard._

“Yes, and that poor cat died.”

Jon’s eyes flash. “I know.”

“But she wants another one,” they say in unison and something clicks.

“You _like_ her,” Robb accuses, dropping the sword to push at Jon’s chest.

“And so do you,” Jon huffs, jealousy burning in him.

“She likes me back. She’s always flirting with me. She _winked_ at me once,” Robb growls.

“And she held my hand through dinner, she argued with your mother for me,” Jon snaps right back.

“You don’t understand. I feel a connection with her,” Robb says.

“So do I! She _understands_ me.”

They stare at each other, breathing wildly, both tense and wired up.

Robb is the one to break away first. He blinks, gaze softening. “Jon, you’re my brother. And best friend.” His voice is a truce-offering.

Jon immediately feels guilty for this petty fight. They usually argue, yes, but never this heatedly. “I know, and you’re my best friend,” he returns.

“We’re not going to let a girl get in between us, will we?”

“Of course not.”

They smile at each other and move in for a hug.

“How about we ask her which one of us she likes?” Robb proposes, still embracing his brother. “That is fair, right?”

“Aye,” Jon answers, nodding slowly. “That’s fair.”

***

When the Stark boys knock at her door—after a shower, given how filthy they were—Daenerys is brushing her hair, freeing herself from the braids that have hurt her head the entire day.

She is shocked to find them both at her door at such an hour. The sun has set and she was getting ready for diner. What could possibly not wait? What worries her more is the concerned looks on both of their faces. “Jon, Robb.” She greets them politely before frowning a bit. “Is something wrong?”

“Can we enter, Daenerys?” Robb asks.

Daenerys nods. “Yes, yes. You may.”

She closes the door behind them.

They still look stressed. Glancing at each other unsurely. “You’re scaring me,” she warns, laughing nervously, “Are you two alright?”

“Daenerys, we know you’re leaving soon…” Jon begins, “But we’d like some answers.”

Robb nods.

“Answers to what?” Daenerys could not be more confused.

“About our relationship,” Robb answers.

“You’re…close to both of us,” Jon chirps in.

“Aye, and we both feel like there is something more.”

“Is there?”

Robb sighs and asks, “Who do you like, Daenerys?”

She glances back and forth between the two of them, watching as they struggle to find the correct words, as they shift about anxiously. Blinking, she offers the simplest yet truest answer she can: “Both.”

The two brothers look at each other for a moment before looking back at her incredulously. “What does that mean?”

“That I like both you,” she repeats.

“Yes, we know. You like Arya. Sansa. Bran. But— _but_ you’ve been flirting with me. Us. Jon and I.” Robb is stammering, blushing as well. “Have we imagined all of it?”

“No, you have not,” she says softly, “I like your siblings, I do, but you two are different.” Her eyes glint suggestively.

They exchange another look.

“How?” Jon asks. “We don’t understand what you mean, Daenerys.”

“I am to be betrothed to some powerful lord in the near future, certainly, but that does not mean I cannot have fun right now,” Daenerys explains, “When I came here, I didn’t know what to expect. Well, I did, actually. I thought Northmen were hairy, mannerless brutes that would be rude to me but I could not have been more wrong. I met two of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.” She flashes them a toothy smile. “I want you both in my bed.”

Instead of taking the compliment, like she believed they would, they both look… _angry?_ “Have you been toying with us? With our feelings?” Robb huffs.

“Aye, it seems she has,” Jon retaliates spitefully. "This must be a stupid game royal people play, huh?"

“No, it’s the truth,” she insists.

“How can you _ask_ for _both of us_ to bed you?” Robb sounds like he’s heard the most insane idea ever.

“Is that so strange for you two?” she asks softly, pouting.

“Aye, it is,” Jon huffs, looking away. “I’m sorry we haven’t grown up like Targaryens.”

“It is a real shame,” Daenerys fires back, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. “Is it so bad that I desire two men? Would it be so wrong if I were a man desiring two women? I like you, Robb, because you are strong and determined. I like you, Jon, for your bravery and kindness. I can tell you have good hearts. And your love for each other is admirable. Not to mention, you’re both terribly attractive.” She juts her chin out. “I’m not going to choose one of you.”

"So, you thought you'd lure us both into your bed before you leave?" Robb inquires.

"Yes," she answers with a shrug. "And I thought you both knew that already."

“No we didn't! I’m going to make your choice easy,” Jon says, sounding bitter, “I’m _leaving_.”

Before he can step away, Daenerys desperately holds onto his wrist. “Please, don’t go,” she whispers.

“We can’t do this, Daenerys,” he murmurs raggedly, his back tense, but he doesn’t push her hand away.

She tightens her hold on his hand, glancing back at Robb. “Yes, we can,” she promises them.

“It’s not right,” Robb tries weakly.

“Who said so?” Daenerys demands fiercely. “The gods?” There is mockery in her voice. “I’m a Targaryen. I don’t need men or gods to guide what I want to do.”

She pulls Jon back and when he turns around, she is satisfied to see that there is barely any restraint on his face. It’s dissolving right in front of her, the closer that she gets. His eyes darken with lust. Triumphant, she leans up and presses her mouth against his, savouring the way his hot lips open up for her. “And what I want is you,” she murmurs against his lips, kissing the bottom one thoroughly before turning to his brother. Robb is looking at her carefully, desire plain on his stoic features. “And you,” she finishes, kissing him as well. He doesn’t resist her either, kissing her back, tasing her lips. They taste the same and nothing alike at the same time. The ice to her fire. Her Stark boys.

“The question is,” she murmurs seductively, stepping away from both of them as she slowly undoes the clasp holding her bathrobe together. The silky material parts in the middle, offering her pale flesh for their eyes to feast upon, “if you both want me.”

“Gods forgive me, I do,” Robb growls in defeat, striding forward and wrapping his arms around her.

Daenerys’ squeak of surprised is swallowed by her mouth as he devours her. His kissing is no longer hesitant and shy, his tongue slips inside, tracing her mouth, making her moan at the ferocity with which he kisses her.

As he moves behind her, hands working to remove the robe from her body while he presses kisses to the back of her neck, Daenerys’ eyes find Jon’s dark ones. She licks her lips. “Come here,” she murmurs.

Like two magnets drawn, Jon do as he is told. Pupils fat with want, Daenerys is not surprised when he grabs onto her chin to kiss her. Her hand slithers down his tunic as she moans into his mouth, finding him hard already. “Did watching me kiss your brother get your cock this hard?” she asks, and he groans into her mouth, kissing her harder than before, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Daenerys closes her eyes, the heat coming from them all she can feel. This is everything she wanted from the moment she had spotted the two boys. She'd heard rumours about how good and proper and _honourable_ Ned Stark and his children are. She wanted them to be bad just for her. And she knew she would succeed.

She knew they would be hers.

As the robe slips down her body, landing on the tiled floor with a soft thud, she sees the way Jon’s eyes trail all over her frame. Daenerys doesn't need to question whether he likes what he sees. There is a hunger in his gaze that sends a delicious thrill down her spine and answers all of her questions. She can’t see Robb’s face as he is behind her, but she imagines that he has the same look on his own face, for she hears his sharp intake of breath.

Daenerys walks away from the boys, even as their eyes stay glued to her. They’re both blushing. She smirks in satisfaction. “Have you two never seen a naked woman before?” she purrs, climbing on her bed and spreading her legs open. “Or are you not used to a woman being _confident_ in bed?” She can feel how aroused she is and there is no doubt that they can see it, too. “Did you want an innocent maiden?” she pouts jokingly as her left hand comes up to cup her breast, their eyes tracking the movement of her fingers as they trail down her soft stomach, all the way to her wet cunt. Daenerys lets her head fall back as she rubs two fingers along her slit, collecting her juices and spreading them around. “The first one who strips gets a taste.” She winks at them, bringing her fingers to her lips.

Jon and Robb look at each other, bewildered by what’s going on, but the hesitancy and shyness from before are gone. She can see it as plain as the moon in a starless sky now—the lust and desire they feel for her. It makes her feel powerful.

The air thickens with tension as they begin undressing. Sword belts and boots drop to the floor, the sounds making her slicker. She can hardly wait to fuck them both. She licks her lips as she gazes upon Jon’s muscled chest, Robb’s big arms, all of their beauty.

 _It’s such a shame that a normal woman is supposed to choose just one,_ she thinks.

Thankfully, she is no ordinary woman.

Robb is the one to finish first. She smiles naughtily as he comes forward, as sure as a King. He kneels at the foot of the bed and pushes his head between her thighs. “Oh,” she sighs in pleasure. He doesn’t bother teasing her, delving right into where she is aching the most. His tongue is hot as it glides along her cunt.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, opening his mouth over her to get a better taste.

Daenerys opens her eyes, finding Jon stroking his thick, hard cock as he watches them. “Come here,” she begs, mouth watering for a taste.

Jon gets on the bed with her, knelt right next to her head, her mouth levelled with his throbbing length. She teasingly drags her tongue along the shaft, her walls clenching at the way he moans. Wrapping her plump lips around the head, Daenerys begins sucking, all while grinding her cunt into his brother’s face.

Slurping sounds fill the room, the scent of sex thick and prominent in the chilly air.

“Gods—stop, I’m gonna—going to—” Jon chokes out, hips bucking as he fucks her face.

“Fill my mouth,” she whispers.

He looks appalled at the idea. _Still so prude-ish,_ she thinks, swallowing his cock whole.

Jon groans as he comes undone, his seed coating her mouth, some of it spilling down her chin and onto her breasts. She swallows the tangy taste just as Robb flicks his tongue over her clit. Daenerys moans as an orgasm rolls through her body. _One of many,_ she hopes.

She gets up from the bed. “You’re still holding back,” she tells them, “I want you two to _let go._ I want to see the wolves you are. I want to be fucked like a whore by the wolves of Winterfell.”

She feels the moment their controls snap. Sees it in their eyes, how they morph into black.

“Did you hear that, Jon?” Robb asks, voice dark.

“Aye,” Jon answers gutturally, “C’mere, _Princess._ I’ll show you how a wolf fucks.”

Raising a brow, she walks up to him, apprehension building in her chest at the way they’re looking at her. She feels like a lamb; defenceless and powerless to two big, bad wolves. The kind brothers from before are gone—replaced by something darker, more primal, and exactly what she wanted.

She goes to kiss Jon on the lips but he grabs the back of her head, dragging it back so he can bite on her neck. She gasps as his teeth sink into her flesh. Behind her, she can feel Robb’s presence. His hands grasp her breasts, nails digging into her skin as he presses kisses along her spine. The pain and pleasure mixing is overwhelming. “Careful,” she says, feeling the way Jon is nipping at her throat, “You’ll leave marks.”

“That’s too bad, Daenerys,” Jon replies, not caring to stop.

She gasps as he flips her around, pinning her head on the mattress with her hand and positioning himself behind her. He teases her opening with his cock before plunging into her in one hard, swift motion, not giving her a warning or time to adjust to his size. She lets out a piercing cry. “Is that what you want?” he asks, thrusting into her so hard the bed moves with them. “To be fucked like a bitch in heat?” Again and again, he moves in and out of her, his hips slapping against hers, making her sob at how good it feels.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans, her cunt full of him. She never expected Jon—always so quiet, shy and brooding—to fuck her so filthily, like a beast. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

Jon lets go of her head, only for Robb to grab onto her hair, forcing her mouth to open for his cock. “Now, be quiet. And take it,” he growls, forcing his length into her wet mouth.

Daenerys moans as Robb roughly fucks her mouth, not letting her breathe and Jon doing the same from behind, ramming his fat cock into her tight channel, making her body spasm.

Outside, a sound is heard.

Someone is at the door.

Daenerys’ eyes widen but the boys’ assault does not stop. Jon keeps fucking her, harder and faster, and Robb forces her to choke on his cock until her eyes begin to water.

“Princess Daenerys?” It’s Catelyn Stark. “Dinner is ready. Will you be joining us?”

She whimpers as Jon slithers a hand underneath her withering body, toying with her swollen nub. He rolls it between two fingers and she sees stars behind her eyelids. Daenerys is on her knees, being fucked by both of them so good that she can barely think straight, so it's no surprise that Catelyn's question remains unanswered. As Robb’s length begins throbbing in her wet mouth, he also moves his hand down, pinching her nipples. The overstimulation is enough to make her go mad.

 _I would love to see Catelyn’s face,_ she thinks, _see what her reaction would be at Jon fucking me like a cheap whore while her trueborn son is taking my mouth._

“You must be sleeping,” Catelyn says, “I’ll make a servant girl bring your food to you.”

Jon pulls out of her, his seed squirting onto her back. Her cunt is throbbing with release but before she can understand what’s going on, Robb is pulling out of her mouth and filling her cunt instead. She collapses on the bed, the sensation too much for her. He fucks her hard, just like his brother. “Gods,” she cries, “Too much. Too _good_.” She is forced to cum again, now on Robb’s dick, as he pulls out just in time, and she feels more hot liquid on her back, some of it dribbling on the mattress.

Afterwards, the three of them lay on the bed, still breathing heavily.

“I feel dirty,” Daenerys says, sighing happily. “And sticky all over.”

“I cannot believe I did this,” Jon says to the ceiling. “Gods, what would Ned think?”

Dany rolls her eyes.

“Can we not think about Father right now?” Robb asks with a groan and she giggles.

“I’m not quite done with you two,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to Jon’s cheek and then Robb’s. “I want more.”

“You’re insatiable,” Jon murmurs, turning to look at her. He reaches for her breast, thumb ghosting over her pink nipple which hardens for him. He smiles.

“I am,” she says, moaning as both of them begin exploring her tired body with their hands. Feather touches over her breasts, down her belly. “A dragon doesn’t get— _ohhh.”_

A heavy moan escapes her lips as Jon inserts a long finger into her cunt, leisurely rubbing at her insides. “What were you saying?” he asks teasingly.

She takes in a shaky breath. “That a dragon doesn’t get tire— _mhmm._ ”

Robb joins him, sliding a finger in as well. Daenerys moans and writhes as they finger-fuck her, gently, teasingly, as she tries to roll her hips to search for more friction.

As the Stark brothers begin kissing and touching her—at the same time—she reminds herself to ask Rhaegar to extend their vacation up North. What a wonderful place.


End file.
